Oh God I gotta read all this

Get ready for a lesson in boredom.
3 guesses what this fucking blog is about.

i'm not very good at understanding friendships. i am really good with boundaries primarily because i'm cautious as shit. it was really recently that i found some of my friends really liked getting physical, so i went from "i only touch and fuck my (now ex-)girlfriend" to "i cuddle some friends, i compliment and am affectionate to a lot of my friends, i have fucked some friends, i have made out with some friends" etc. etc. etc.

and it's very confusing.

Entitled "one moment while I say this" like anyone cares.
Ever been in a college class and there's that person that prefaces every answer with a personal story?
Welcome.
Welcome to that in blog form.

i can't tell what the hell love is. romantic love, specifically. i just kind of show mass affection for the people in my life as a whole, but focusing on a single person, making one person special, that's really difficult. and i suspect the answer may be just stopping the physical affection. making it so that i focus on a partner, you know?

This is about the time you start affixing labels like they're going out of style.
I'M A POLYAMOROUS SEX-POSITIVE CISGENDER--

i've recounted this story to friends enough to feel tired of talking about it, so i will just keep it brief.

i work at a book sale on campus; i've done this used book-selling job for the past two years. and this year, for the big big sale this past month, i worked bag check. and by chance i was assigned to partner with a new girl. and by chance this new girl and i got along really fucking well. she and i seemed to immediately form a total understanding. i have a number of neurotic tendencies when i meet new people; i micromanage the conversation, i overlook how i'm coming off, i try to control the image from the inside. and after the shift, when she wanted my number to keep in contact and to go out for coffee, she did the same thing, and it was refreshing to just say that it's totally fine. i'm the same way.

So I guess this is a guy but goddamn.
Like I still can't believe it.

and this continued into a lot of areas regarding thought patterns; i mean, we have a lot of differences in how we use technology, the books we like (to a degree), etc. etc. i got the impression at first that she was crushing, but apparently how she acted -- playfully, physically affectionate -- was just platonic. and i felt okay with this, after we clarified everything. but a part of me is like, well, shit, sophia, are you crushing on a straight girl?

Oh.
I'm glad, actually.
Good. It's a woman. At least we know sometimes up is up and down is down.
CRUSHING ON A STRAIGHT GIRL!?
Are you sure you're in college?
You just used "crushing" as a verb and you didn't mean to press.
This is like middle school psychology.

i don't know what crushing is anymore.

the fact that i even read what she did as something beyond friendship is just some token of my understanding of male-female relationships; i have had little experience talking to other women, as in, from scratch, who read me as cis.

WOOO LABELS.

it's so easy to wax poetic, to speak like i'm ginsberg, without buddhist transcendentalism or the pedophilia apologism. 

You know it really is easy to wax poetic about pedophilia apologists.
I'm speaking from experience.
As a poet and a pedophile and a pedophile apologist.
Wait--

okay, so, i am beginning to detest the transgender label. but i feel somewhat ashamed of that, because, well, i am transgender. it feels way more right to wave my freak flag, to represent who i am, on a technical level, in reality. it only came to mind a half hour ago, though — i was writing up some kind of biography for this site, and was about to write "trans girl," or "trans lady," or "trans woman," but all of them conveyed a not-me image. it felt like it was giving the reader the wrong idea, the imagination of myself as some tall, skinny, flat-chested person looking for pity? and i mean, that's just my own image, that's just my internalised transphobia, my self-hate. 

So the biological gender iiiiiiiiiiis...
I don't know.
This might be the first time (maybe, don't quote me on that) that the biological gender has been explicitly stated but it's too confusing to read correctly.

but that doesn't mean ditching a label entirely, does it? like — it's not like i am just distanced from the reality of eighteen years of manhood and testosterone, etc. it's that i feel weird about how seeing the words, and not seeing me, can influence people into believing i am less attractive than i am. bam! vanity.

so really, the issue is that inside, i believe i am hotter than the trans label would imply. wow i'm awful.

So biological man who claims to be a straight woman (so that means--)
and--
UHHHHH--

but i can spill some secrets.

i had a girlfriend once; I was seventeen and she was eighteen and we were classmates in a high school film class. the class focused on symbolism and framing and characters, like an applied English class; she focused on me one day and started talking and i focused on her and we fell in love like a recovering agoraphobe. we took a few steps and slowly learned to breathe. 

And like a man with his one week chip from anger management I am quivering with repressed fury.
I was informed by my biggest reader that Monday's entry was phoning it in and I can't disagree so I'm trying to bring it today.
Can you believe that was a fucking serious attempt at an analogy?
Our romance is like a recovering agoraphobe because it's one step at a time and breathing slowly HUE HUE HUE HUE
I mean fuck off, Jesus.

who was i? hard question, i must have been some smug douche: the high school had uniforms, it was catholic, i wore a sweatshirt every day. i had a pea coat and a flat cap and thick black glasses, i had bushy black hair and no facial hair. i was male, but ashamedly so, and i thought i knew everything (i was mistaken; now i know everything).

Oh good.
Glad to see lessons were learned about being a smug douche.

and her? she had hair down to her ass and she was two inches taller than me. we were scared of intimacy but looking for partners. she liked Monty Python so I bought the complete collection to fake interest. we went to libraries and watched movies together and slowly grew closer together; her mother's couch cushions felt like opposite shores at first but easily turned into street block demarcations and then individual sidewalk pieces. it was easier to meet; and we were stuck.
but so much happened. university, and I had to gender transition, and her mental illnesses were coming to a head. we needed each other but it was destroying our self-care.
she dumped me last month and we fucked in her back seat a week later

This is a great story.

and we're meeting again tomorrow, after a week of her telling me to never talk to her again
christ, anonymous, I love her but I don't know where my head is. I envision us as this super cool duo of hot ladies, sipping coffees and reading cool books and dismantling the patriarchy okay I realise that phrase has become diluted and cheapened by casual use. 

Jesus Christ can you believe that was a sentence someone typed?
Like in all your years
of living on this earth
as a person
did you ever think you'd read something that pretentious?

but in this fantasy are we lovers or friends? or lovers and friends. or lovers but friends.
I don't know where the lines are or what they mean, I just want to keep her safe from harm and fuck her brains out. I just want to laugh with her and make out on the couch.
I want us to be the beautiful art that creates other beautiful artworks
one big tribute to some creator; but let's face it, I made myself — body and identity — myself. 

I WANT TO BE BEAUTIFUL ART
come on, me. If this wacko can get a girlfriend surely I can manage somehow.

and what am i doing here, you ask. you are me, but you are also a potential reader, god save your soul. i am yet another pseudo-intellectual twentysomething transgender woman on livejournal; i am the antidote. 

Antidote?
To fucking what?
You know any antidote taken in excess becomes poison.
I kind of feel like that's where we are now with this kinda blog.
There's so much of it surely the wound has become septic and it's time to just cut blogging from the internet entirely.

i am implausibly awake at 3 in the morning and i possess a 6am wake time. i am a masochist, a beautiful disaster, and i have feelings to share; we all have spare blood to shed and the internet has so many containers for it. the internet is not a series of tubes it is senseless bloodshed and the emotions of a billion people coalesced. 

We all have spare blood to shed.
I have no blood.
Instead of blood I have boiling acid and piss.

i have to stop talking to boys entirely, apparently.

is there some kind of sign on my back that says “sophia’s single, boys! have at her!” ? why the hell is it that whenever i just have a conversation with a guy they think i’m picking them up?

i was at the u of t computer shop and got to talking to the clerk about old tech and how i’m nostalgic for 1999 cd burners and then we talked about gattaca and other sci-fi movies and he called a 90s movie “old” and i said that’s not very old, i’m a film major and we look at way older stuff all the time. 

Older than the 90s?
Impossible.
Also who wants to bet none of this fucking happened?

and he talked about how at sheridan he used to make movies and then gave me his contact information to “talk movies sometime, i know a lot about movies, trust me, ok see you film major girl”

and then i went to the robarts media commons like right after and watched ‘mean streets’ to try and catch up in some capacity, and the guy beside me started talking about how he couldn’t understand his film much, so i try and talk it out and help him like critically engage with film and then when i was done my film and i left he came out and we kept talking and then when i said i had to go home he said “can i take you out to dinner” and my mind went, what

Don't end sentences on italics, thanks.
Blogger has difficulty taking no for an answer once they're on.
Also: none of this shit happened. I was making a joke before but now I am 100% convinced.

and i didn’t know how to shake him, i didn’t want to break his heart. i let him have my number and told him my name and he said he liked my last name and i said i don’t really like it, it’s so italian, and he asked if i was italian and i said i’m half italian and half french and he said “oh that’s why you’re so beautiful” and i’m like no stop hitting on me please i am not in a headspace to date right now and he said no pressure, take it easy, he kept touching me and saying take it easy, and said i’m so interesting, i’m so fascinating, he really wants to take me out sometime, it’ll be great.

and now he’s texting me and i just don’t know what to do, a boy has never asked me out before
Oh I know a good way to shake them:

I HAVE A BIG SWINGING DICK WITH 8 INCHES OF FORESKIN.
Also you might not have noticed due to the sneaky way I don't copy entire entries (ain't no one got time for that) but the second-to-last entry was actually the intro entry.
Because, you know, talking about getting hit on by boys (!) is far more important than a proper introduction.
Further proof this shit didn't happen.
Also har har not to cut an entry short or anything but that is the end of this blog.
I have read all there is.
I wrote a paragraph about banning transsexuals from this blog but then I realized I'd have nothing to review so I deleted it.
Never mind, never mind.
Also I tried to find something as pretentious and fucking gay as this blog and I think I did it.
Yeah that's Kajagoogoo.
But wait, you might be saying. Kajagoogoo isn't obscure. They had their one hit called Too Shy.
Yeah that's true, I'd say, but this is their OTHER HIT.
Oh yeah, Kajagoogoo. The one hit wonder with two hits.
Also I realized in my desire to phone it in as hard as I could I forgot yesterday's song of the day.
Well. If Kajagoogoo got you rock hard it's not too late to start bringing yourself to climax.
Like I realized yesterday you're not getting the full experience of what it's like to listen to music with me.
Kajagoogoo, Girl's Generation and Geto Boys will often play back to back to back or combinations that improbable.
Ohhh goodness.
Anyway fuck blogs.